


A Strong Connection

by Stydia (Zady)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2235900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zady/pseuds/Stydia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is slowly losing his mind as he goes in for a MRI. Can Lydia save him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strong Connection

**Author's Note:**

> Great when read while listening to the song from the scene  
> Slippin Around by Zhala

Lydia sat quietly in her car, waiting outside the hospital as Stiles went in for his MRI. She couldn’t bear to be in the waiting room, all alone in that sterile environment.

A pounding sound echoed through Lydia’s head. It was as if a thousand tiny anvils were being smashed simultaneously against her skull. She turned up the music, attempting to drown out the sound. The song did nothing to soothe her; rather it ramped up her anxiety.

She had known Stiles for years but it was only in the last year that they had become friendly. He was not her usual type, but as Lydia got to know him she felt a strong connection, unlike any she’d has with the guys she had dated before. Before all the supernatural stuff with Scott and Jackson, Lydia had barely noticed Stiles. As smart as she was, she could tell Stiles had a certain worshipful nature towards her. What she hadn’t expected was to feel something back.

Stiles and Lydia often acted as if they were a couple, bickering or flirting despite the chaos going on around them. But this was something that Lydia had no control over. As she well knew, frontotemporal dementia took the greatest toll on personality, changing people as happy and vibrant as Stiles into absent, snarky or depressed shells of themselves.

 _If Stiles had it_ …

 _No!_ She squashed that thought. Nothing could happen to Stiles. Her Stiles couldn’t change. Scott wouldn’t let him. Lydia knew that Scott would take the risk of transforming his friend rather than letting him lose himself.

Lydia massaged her temples, trying to ease the intensity of her headache.

 

Stiles tried to remain still. It was imperative that this scan worked, he knew his father didn’t have enough money for another one. He winced as the Magnetic Resonance Imaging machine started up, creating a banging sound as the inner coils vibrated to produce a magnetic field.

Ever since he had died and come back to life, Stiles had felt as if something was taking root inside his mind. Deaton had warned him of the consequences of the journey he had undertaken. _But what if I did have it? What if I was born with a malfunctioning brain?_

Scott had offered to turn him, but Stiles knew the risks associated with becoming a werewolf. He could die or turn into a Kanima like Jackson.

It was difficult to remain still. Every part of him was on edge. His nerves sung out, urging him to move. He screwed up his face, shutting his eyes tightly in an attempt to block everything out.

From behind the protective screen Sheriff Stilinski watched as his son lay in the same spot his wife had before her death. He didn’t know how he was going to face going through this again. He barely felt the comforting squeeze of his hand by Melissa McCall as she sat next to him, gazing solemnly at the computer screen.

 

“Stiles,” Lydia called out in panic.

 _Why did I do that?_ Her headache was getting to her. Lydia briefly wondered if it was a migraine but then dismissed it. She never got migraines, just the phantom whisperings of the voices of the dead.

Something pulled at her mind, as if it was being infiltrated. She screamed out, her voice louder than any humans could be.

 

Stiles’ torso twisted as he something grabbing hold of him, commanding him to move. He opened his eyes but there was no one there.

“Is everything okay Stiles?” The doctor’s voice crackled through the speakers.

“Yes.”

“Okay, just relax. Only fifteen more minutes. You’ve been very good and still so far, just hold it a little longer.”

Stiles heard a click and the end of the fuzziness as the doctor turned off the microphone he’d use to speak with Stiles. Now he was truly alone once more.

 

It was over. Lydia’s mind had cleared, only a faint trace of the pounding remained.

She looked around and realised she was the only one in the parking lot. She turned up the music even more to drown out the sudden emptiness that engulfed her. She felt on edge.

Abruptly she opened the car door and slipped out, slamming the door firmly shut behind her. She was filled with a foreign nervous energy, energy that used to come before she took a test until she learnt to control her emotions.

Lydia paced back and forth. The she shook out her hand and her arms in an attempt to rid herself of excess energy. She had to move. She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet before pushing away and sprinting (as much as one can sprint in heels) into the hospital.

She located the Radiology and Magnetic Imaging unit of the hospital.

_Where is Stiles?_

_Where is my anchor?_

Deaton had said that in order to be brought back to the mortal realms, he needed something to anchor him to life, something that would give him the strength to come back.

But the desire to give up was overwhelming. He had lost his emotional connection. Having lain still on the bed in the MRI machine had ramped up his anxiety level and had drained him. He had lost his tether and was vulnerable.

Stiles sucked in a deep breath and held it, quashing his slowly rising panic.

‘I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack’

The memory of Lydia came back to him, how she had kissed him at the moment he was most broken and raw. He felt like that now, wondering what his future would hold when the scans came back positive. _If,_ he told himself. _Not when; if._

Stiles thought of his father. He couldn’t bear to think what this would put him through, losing both his wife and his son to the same disease, a curse that robbed the person of who they were and replaced them with emptiness. His father would be forced to care for Stiles, a time consuming, twenty-four hour, job which would only result in Stiles’ early death and high bills and no work for his father. That, or Stiles would turn into a supernatural creature.

He let out his breath slowly, his fear halted for the time being. Only about eight more minutes left of the scan. _I just need to get through this._

An eerie calm washed over him. His eyes were clear and his breath and heat rate had evened out. His previous expressions, both solemn and in pain smoothed out and was replaced by a sly smile. Stiles smirked softly to himself. For some reason he found this whole situation faintly ridiculous. His expression darkened and the Stiles who was not Stiles set his jaw resolutely.

 

_Stiles!_

Lydia sprinted into the room. She had no idea why, but she knew she had to get to Stiles _now_.

Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall and the doctor all looked up at Lydia’s sudden unexpected entrance. They all wore identical expressions of shock and confusion, expressions which barely covered the emotions hidden behind them.

“Lydia-“ Sheriff Stilinski started to say.

“What are you doing here?” Melissa asked her.

“I have to get to Stiles.”

“You can’t go in there I’m afraid, young lady. Stiles will be finished in five minutes. You will have to wait until then.” The doctor’s voice was kind but firm.

“I need to see him. Now!” Lydia cried.

 

Stiles fought with himself. He heard a commotion over by the screens. Stiles knew he shouldn’t turn his head. For some reason it was important for him to stay absolutely still. And yet something in his mind urged him on. _Turn your head. Go on. Turn. Turn, turn, turn! Do it! Do it now!_

 

Lydia slipped around the watchful group and burst into the contained room, not caring that she was exposing herself to high levels of magnetic field. Her jewellery pulled from her, seeking the strong force that filled the room. Lydia hardly noticed. She had to get to Stiles.

She reached out and held his hand.

“I’m here,” she told him.

 

The tension in both Stiles and Lydia’s head eased. Stiles held onto Lydia’s hand, fighting to close the door to the malicious presence in his mind. Tears ran down Lydia’s face as she looked at Stiles. She had seen the darkness in him, but slowly that was leaving him.

 _Keep fighting,_ she urged him silently.

Stiles’ eyes met Lydia’s and she could see he understood her perfectly.

Stiles let out a deep breath, and with it Lydia felt her headache face. Lydia had come just in time. She had anchored Stiles, allowing him to hold on for those last crucial seconds.

They heard the whir as the machine turned off. The scan was finished. From behind the screens the doctor looked at the computer monitor, perplexed.

“For a second I thought…” he shook his head, as if to clear it. He looked at Sheriff Stilinski. “Your son is fine. There is no evidence of atrophy.”

Sheriff Stilinski heaved a great sigh of relief, and with it the tension within him left. His son was going to be fine.

Stiles stood up, leaning on Lydia for support. Neither of them needed to say anything to understand what had just passed between them. He hugged Lydia tightly.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.


End file.
